


The Inquisitor Wears a Mask

by Nanohano



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Friendship, Multi, Mystery, Original Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:51:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6032224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanohano/pseuds/Nanohano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young noble is sent before the Inquisition to negotiate their family's alliance in the wake of the events at the Winter Palace. Eager to lend support, the young noble’s ambitions are sent aside when the Inquisitor himself goes missing and Skyhold is sent into chaos. With Corypheus pressing his forces into the Arbor Wilds and the Inquisition left leaderless, the young noble ventures forth to find the Inquisitor, reestablish order in the Inquisition, and discover the root of whatever mysterious force may be behind it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Inquisitor Wears a Mask

**Author's Note:**

> First venture into Dragon Age: Inquisition. Leave honest comments and critiques and let me know if you like or how I can improve. 
> 
> The events of the story fall just after the Winter Palace, where Celene rules with Briala's assistance, and just before the events at the Arbor Wilds. 
> 
> Also, the "Cards" I refer to in the story at the tarot cards used to represent characters in the Codex. I loved the art and I felt like they could be trading cards in Thedas for the Inquisitions admirers. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

  
  
  


Journal of Andreas Celine De’ Mannmostadt 

 

 

9:41 Dragon-15th-day, Pluitanis

 

_ The entire empire is a-ghasp, and I confess I am no exception. The events at the Winter Palace continue to shake Val Royeaux and Orlais to its core. The civil war between the empress and the Grand Duke has divided the empire for over a year, and the Inquisition has brought it to a decisive end in nary a single night. Rumors spread that the Inquisitor himself bent the evening to his will and his actions spared the life of our empress, while exposing the Grand Duchess Florianne herself as a would be assassin and traitor! Father refuses to elaborate on the details of the evening. He feels the talk is too grim for me to stomach, but I have had the story from all over the Summer Bazaar. Every merchant and noble seeks information from those in attendance and my friend in the University has had it from his professor, who advises the Count Thoumeaux, who serves the Lord Ghislain, that the Inquisitor publically sat down the Grand Duchess, humiliated the Grand Duke, and brought Briala...the….the ambassador? I suppose...in any event, he brought the elvish spies under the control of the empress as well!  _

 

_ So noble...dashing...heroic. I am all astonishment thinking about it. He brought with him a smathering of the Inquisitions’ inner circle as well. _

 

_ Lord Cullen, the Knight-Commander.  _

_ Sister Leliana, the Nightingale.  _

_ Lady Montilyet, the Golden. _

_ Enchanter Vivienne, Madame De Fur.  _

_ Dorian Pavus, the Noble Tevinter. _

~~_ And Cassandra Allegra...Portia...Filomena?  _ ~~

_ Seeker Pentaghast, the Divine’s Right Hand. _

 

_ Oh to have been there…. _

 

_ I have collected all their cards from the Bazaar and the merchants release new ones with every sunrise. They are perfect in all ways and the artisan the merchants commission paint the inquisition in ways only dreamed of. All carried in the hand and pocket. We clamor for them in front of their stalls. Ladies snatching the bonnets of the heads of noblewoman, and gemtelmen trample over each other for a chance to own the visage of the Inquisition…  _

 

_ Not three days passed when I purchased a card dedicated the Madame Vivienne and the passing of her Duke Bastion, and a Chevalier drew his sword to challenge me for the right to its possession. I cannot dare to recount how I convinced him to let me keep it unharmed...needless to say, I must be more careful how I collect my precious cards.  _

 

_ They line the shelf I had papa prepare for me in my room. If I continue to collect as I have, he will need to build me another...though I fear his patience for my love of the inquisition grows weary. He calls it needless hero worship, and says I waste my time and thoughts on glorifying a single man and his servants. But I know that is not so. They are heros! Legends forming in front of our eyes! Everybody knows...everyone agrees...without our Inquisitor, Orlais would be in shambles, all of Thedas would be aflame in chaos, or sucked into a dreadful Breach in the sky.  _

  
  


_ Oh to meet him, to stand in his presence, I grow weak at the thought…  _ __  
  


 

_ But I have heard rumors, whispers, that the Inquisition is appealing to noblemen and landowners in Val Royeaux to secure supplies for their army and Skyhold itself. No doubt thanks to their new alliance with the empress. Lady Bonfamille and the Viscount Champelles have both received invitations to Skyhold, and both control great lands and resources the Inquisition needs. My father, Lord Mannmostadt, commands a great shipping company between the empire and Nevarra as well as smaller holdings across Ferelden and the Free Marches...we are no high imperial family, but we were considered important enough to be invited to the peace talks at the Winter Palace….well, my father was. Dare I dream we will be invited to Skyhold? Will they seek us out as allies? Father would never refuse, no matter his personal opinion of the Inquisition. _

 

_ But...perhaps he will take me with him? No, perhaps even I will go in his place? I am his eldest and I will inherit his titles and holdings when he is passed, Maker forbit. Perhaps he will let me go as practice. He knows my infatuation with all the Inquisition….but that will induce me to greater behavior, not further foolishness! Surely he knows that!  _

  
  


_ Oh Maker! Andraste! Whoever is listening please make it so!  _

  
  


_ -Andreas  _

 

 

* * *

  
  


I waited outside the estate every day for nearly a fortnight in eagerness for messengers, never diminishing as the days passed with no word from Skyhold. My father again told me to remove myself from such foolishness, but I am resolute. Another three nobles received their invitations and it is certain that Lady Montilyet will hold a meeting of Orlaisian nobles to discuss supplies for the Inquisition. 

 

“How are we to be included in such affairs?” Father scoffed.

 

“The Inquisitor and his band of fools can have no interest in our holdings, no matter how grand or humble...no, I cannot imagine the Mannmostadt receiving a summons. As if I would even heed it!” His words rang cruelly in my ears and I sobbed into my sheets that night for fear that all hopes has been dashed for setting foot in precious Skyhold. 

 

On the 11th day since the first invitation had been sent, I sat on the steps of the villa, eyes focused forward on the road eagerly searching for messengers. Papa could not dissuade me, I could not let him. If they would not come I would wait on the steps for all time, into the next age!

 

Let the new Divine name the next age the Waiting Age, for it will define the next 100 years if they do not come! 

 

But it was so, and as my hopes fell with rising despair, an armored scout came over the road in eagerness, rushing to make a delivery.

 

I stood, composed myself, and made sure no grime or dirt from the steps had worsened my clothes, and tried to see what, if any, marking adored the scout. 

 

Then I saw it, as only I could from such a distance. The eye that penetrated the world with its gaze, striking fear and inspiring love into the hearts and mind that beheld it. The eye of the Inquisition was emblazoned on the man's helmet and sparkled in the sunlight setting on his back. In moments he was at the bottom of the steps, sweating in his armor and huffing breaths to catch himself. 

 

“I….I need to get this to the Lord Mannmostadt _. _ ” He heaved between breaths. 

 

“His invitation to meet with the Inquisition at Skyhold had gone awry, and it’s delivery was...was delayed.” He looked both equal parts ashamed and exhausted.

 

The door servant descended the steps and attempted to receive my father's message. 

 

“No!” I shouted. 

 

“No...thank you, Carine...I will receive the invitation and take it to Papa.” I said stopping the servant and moving down the steps. 

 

“I am Andreas Celine De’ Mannmostadt, First Heir of the Lord Mannmostadt. I will see that my father receives your message in greatest haste.” I said enacting my finest voice of authority. 

 

The scout sighed, seeming in relief, and unwrapped the message from the belt pocket. 

 

“ _ The Lord Mannmostadt is invited to Skyhold at the behest of the Inquisition of Thedas and the Inquisitor personally. The Inquisition seeks to secure the cooperation and support of the noble houses of Orlais in fighting the forces that seek to throw the land into chaos. We hope to have your attendance in Skyhold immediately and an escort of Inquisition scouts will guide you to the gates of the Inquisition, along with any personal guards you seek to bring with you.  _ in seven days...um…” He coughed nervously. 

 

“....In one day hence... _ the escort will arrive to guide you. If you do not wish to attend simply dismiss the escort and we will accept your refusal will no insult or grudge. We hope to see you as soon as possible to secure the future of the land we all call our own.  Signed -- _

 

_ The Lady Montilyet and The Inquisitor.” _

 

The scout finished, looking terribly embarrassed, and handed me the message. 

 

“Forgive me m'lord. The message was supposed to reach you days earlier...I--” 

 

“No, no it is quite alright, splendidly well.” I cut him off, elegantly containing myself while the rest of me threatened to split open at the seams with unbridled elation. 

 

I cradled the messaged and nodded while ascending the steps in a glide. The scout watched for a moment and nodded while running off, perhaps to make more ill-timed deliveries. I waited until he was down the road, out of sight, and jumped a foot in the air, raising my arms and frightening the door servant out of her frock.

 

The day had come, as it was always destined to. It had been a mistake we’d not received our invitation earlier, and I raced to father office at the far end of the villa to give word of the good news. I would lay my truth at his feet and he would have no recourse but to accept. He could not deny me this, he wouldn’t. I would represent our family honorably, I would offer our holdings reasonably and win favor with the greatest growing power in all of Thedas. It made all the reasonable sense in the word, father would be overjoyed. 

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


“Absolutely not…” He said plainly, deadly like a knife in his hand. 

 

“Please papa, please!” I begged, throwing myself over his desk and grabbing his hands. 

 

“You cannot refuse and you must send me, you must! I am your heir, should I not learn?” I asked in hurried fever, tears edging themselves inside my soul, ready to spill out at another of my father's refusal. 

 

“I have not even been presented at court, and you refuse to allow me to sit in on meeting of business and coin! I have been at the University for three years learning of the trade and countless hours with the tudors educating myself on the Mannmostadt family holdings...how am I to grow or succeeded in your shoes if I am unable to test myself in the realities of negotiations and and--”

 

“Enough enough!” My father shouted. He sighed wearily and rubbed his head with eyes squeezed shut. 

 

“This is to be a meeting with the Inquisition and its inner circle. How am I to trust you to maintain yourself respectfully and without incident? As indeed you do now…?” He referred to my clamoring over his desk. 

 

I moved down hurriedly and composed myself, hope reignited. 

 

“I would dare not shame you, or myself, certainly not in front of the Inquisitor.” I said proudly. 

 

“Father...I know you are hesitant to trust me in this. But I implore you to allow this risk. I would never shame my family, or gamble your fortune. We’ve doubled our holdings along the Nevarran borden and the acquisition of a trade agreement with the Merchants Guild has allowed us an excess of supply that we would simply sell to the Free Marches for a marginal gain. Granting the Inquisition these supplies would cost us a reasonable loss and allow us to gain fiscal and political support with the Inquisition and the noble families that have allied with it…” 

 

Father seemed impressed, and nodded, perhaps agreeing... however slightly.  

 

“Andreas...I...worry for you. Your passion has always been your greatest weakness, your intelligence was never in question. But...perhaps I am to blame for that as well. For I would not give you a chance to grow beyond it.” He sighed again, and rose from his chair. 

 

“Andreas Celine De’ Mannmostadt, heir of Lord Mannmostadt and inheritor of all my holdings and fortune.” He said proudly while I too rose from my chair. 

 

“You will go forth to represent the Mannmostadt family at Skyhold and negotiate the delivery of supplies to the Inquisition.” I reserved a gracious tear and sniffled, a smile splaying my face. 

 

Father reached to his desk and grabbed his mask, the symbol of our family as Orlaisan nobles _._ It was a most beautiful thing, and I’d admired it since I was too short to see over his desk. It was carved from Emarion wood from the private grove of the Mannmostadt family over 200 years ago, and charmed by Montsimmard First Enchanter of the time to ward against evil. It was white like a pearl and just as smooth. It shone beautifully, not darkened or tarnished in the slightest over the generations. He handed it to me and I bared it in my palms with the greatest reverence. 

 

“Do me proudly, Andreas.” He said placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezing softly. 

 

“Thank you, Papa.” I said hugging him and rushing off to pack for tomorrow. 

 

“And Maker’s breath, pack warmly! You are going to the Frostback Mountains not the Nevarra beach home! Furs and coats, not those thin silks!” He shouted while I moved hurriedly down the halls, a procession of servants at my side to help me gather my things...


End file.
